The Family They've Longed For

by Robin Gianna

  God, she’d missed this. Missed feeling this way—missed holding him and touching him and kissing him. She waited for the guilt to wash over her, the awful regret for her actions that terrible day, but it didn’t come. All she felt was a deep need to be with him, to enjoy this one time they had together before they went back to their separate lives.

  “Frozen yet?” he asked as his mouth and tongue slid leisurely across her skin, his hands following. “I love looking at you. Your body is more beautiful than I remembered. But if you’re cold I’ll cover you up.”

  “Cold? Are you kidding? I feel like I’m burning up.”

  He chuckled against her skin as his hands moved lower to touch between her legs, making her gasp. “Burning up is exactly how I’m feeling, too.”

  The touching, the way his tongue licked her breasts and her stomach and her hipbones, made her quiver and gasp, and she reached for him, wrapping her hand around his erection to make him feel good, too.

  But in moments he pulled himself loose. “God, Rory. I need to be inside you now.”

  “That sounds good to me.”

  “Damn it.”

  He got up from the bed and she felt suddenly cold, had to reach for the covers. “What the heck...? What are you doing?”

  He rifled in his jeans pocket and held up a condom. “You’re not the only one who’s always prepared.”

  Breathlessly, she laughed as he put it on, but her amusement quickly died in her throat as he slipped between the sheets and covered her body with his. Warm and hard and oh, so wonderful, he grasped her hips and slowly filled her, and it felt like all the times before, but somehow even better. She wrapped her arms around his back and kissed him, everything gone from her mind except the amazing way he made her feel.

  They moved together in a devastating rhythm, faster and harder, their kiss broken as he stared down at her, his eyes glittering with the passion she remembered so well.

  “Rory...”

  Her name fell from his lips in a way that told her he felt the same deep connection that had filled every broken piece in her heart. As their bodies convulsed together in physical pleasure the past was forgotten, and for this short moment, at least, she felt almost whole for the first time in nine years.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “YOU COLD?” JAKE held Rory’s sweet body close to his beneath the covers, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

  His heart was all jumbled up at how good it felt to have her in his arms again, even as he reminded himself that she’d be gone again all too soon. And that even if by some miracle she might want to stay, he couldn’t trust her not to up and bolt just like last time. He couldn’t ever trust her with his heart again.

  “Only the top of my head. Your body is like a furnace,” she murmured.

  “I can get my hat for you.”

  “No. Stay in here with me.”

  He looked down at her. At the way her hair swept over his skin. At her beautiful lips, which somehow tasted even better than he remembered. At her pert little nose and heart-shaped face.

  Part of him wanted to just lie there peacefully with her, warm and snug together in front of the fire. But another part of him—the part that had never fully gotten an answer on why she’d left the way she had—still wanted an answer to that question.

  Maybe it made no sense to care about that after all this time, but he couldn’t help it. He’d wondered for the past nine years, and he needed to know why she hadn’t let herself lean on anyone—least of all him—when times had got tough.

  Yeah, he wanted the answer more than he wanted the peace, he supposed, and there would never be another time like this to ask. Cozy and intimate and all alone, with no interruptions and nowhere to hide.

  “Why did you leave, Rory?”

  She was silent for a long time, and he thought maybe he wasn’t going to get an answer after all when she finally spoke. “You know why. We already talked about this.”

  “We lost our baby. It was hard and it hurt, but it didn’t have to mean the end of our relationship. Of all our plans. You told me you hated hearing the whispers, seeing people talking about the accident. About the way the snow machine flipped with you on it. But was that a good enough reason to leave me without even a goodbye?”

  “I didn’t say goodbye because I knew you must hate me,” she whispered. “God knows, I hated myself.”

  “I never hated you. How could you think that? I was upset with you, yeah. Even before we lost the baby, I admit I was mad. You ignored me when I told you to stay home. You insisted on going on the snow machine with the rescue crew when you were seven months pregnant and that was stupid. I get that you’d done plenty of search and rescues, but that situation was different. And you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I know. And I’ll regret that decision for the rest of my life. Which is why I left.”

  “Regretting, I understand. But running away from everything? Our plans to go to med school in Anchorage together? Dumping me and leaving me high and dry?”

  “If I hadn’t gone out on the snow machine our baby might not have died inside me. I have to live with that. I couldn’t live with everyone else knowing what I’d done. Blaming me like I blamed myself.”

  “How many times did I say no one blamed you? How many doctors and nurses told you that Adam being stillborn probably had nothing to do with that night?”

  “But no one knew for sure.”

  Warm wetness touched his chest. The fact that she was crying tempered the frustration rolling around in his chest and he pulled her closer against him.

  “No one ever knows for sure why a baby is stillborn. Still, you turned away from me, you wouldn’t lean on me. Wouldn’t grieve with me. Help me understand why.”

  She tipped her head up to look at him, her teary eyes wide as they met his. “I... I’m not sure I even know why, other than the guilt I felt. And I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting her hand to cup his jaw. “I wasn’t able to think straight. But see...? You were lucky to be rid of me. I’m not the kind of woman you’d want in your life forever.”

  Lucky to be rid of her? That was the last way he would ever view what had happened back then. Being with her now, holding her like this, made him face the truth. He’d never stopped loving her—even when he’d tried to convince himself he had.

  “You’re wrong. You were the only woman I wanted in my life.” And now that he’d seen her again, he knew she still was. “Even now, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Except trust you. I learned the hard way I can’t ever let myself trust you again.”

  “I understand.”

  When her eyes filled with tears again a part of him felt bad about what he’d said, but it was simply the truth. And maybe more than saying it to her, he was reminding himself not to fall in love with her all over again. Not to put himself in a position where she could crush his soul a second time.

  “You have a good life here, with your family and little Mika,” she said, sniffing. “I get that maybe I was wrong to run away. But that’s behind us now. I’ll be leaving soon, so you won’t have to look at me and feel angry anymore.”

  “When I look at you now I think you know that angry isn’t how I feel.” He couldn’t regret sharing that truth with her, because he wanted her to know that, no matter what, he’d always care about her. “And, since you’re leaving soon, this might be our last chance to be alone together. How do you feel about making the best of it while we can?”

  A real smile, like the ones he’d used to love to see all night, touched her lips. “There might be a lot of things I’ll never feel good about. But kissing you isn’t one of them.”

  She rose up over him, the firelight flickering over her glorious nakedness, and he looked up at her beautiful face before she kissed him. Heat hummed between them and he held her close, giving himself up to the moment while he could.

 
; No matter that he knew he’d miss her again, far too much, when she left.

  * * *

  “I can’t get it loose to fix it, Twinkie,” Rory said, lying on her back as she stared up at the stupid pipe connection under the kitchen sink that wouldn’t stop dripping. She gave the wrench another mighty twist on the pipe, but it didn’t budge. “It’s like the elbow is frozen to the other piece. We’ll just have to keep this bucket under here until a plumber can come.”

  “Jacob’s always happy to fix stuff around here when he can.”

  Rory scooted out from under the sink and sat up so fast she nearly cracked her head on the top of the cabinet frame. “What? Don’t call Jake. It’s not fair to bother him with stuff like this. He’s busy at work, and with the baby.”

  And his busyness wasn’t the only reason she didn’t want him here. Their night together had been the best thing to happen to her in a long, long time, and she’d keep the memory close to her heart when she went back to LA. But they’d both agreed that spending any more time together while she was still here would just shake up old feelings that were better left alone.

  “I already called him. He said he’d come over when he could,” Twinkie said as she walked into the kitchen with an armload of stuff and a big smile. “Leave that and come paint with me. We haven’t done finger paints since you were a little girl. Won’t that be fun?”

  “Finger paints?” She stared at her mom. Was she kidding? “Uh... I think I’d rather use a brush. You do have some, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but don’t be a traditionalist. Humans have used their fingers for eating and artwork and all kinds of things forever. I feel like being primal today.”

  A snorting laugh left Rory’s nose at that—until the word brought that night with Jake roaring into her brain again. Primal was exactly how it had felt. Making love almost with desperation, like they couldn’t get enough of one another. If she closed her eyes she could still picture his spectacular nakedness in the firelight, and she got a little short of breath just thinking about it.

  Maybe spreading paint around with her fingers would be a good outlet for the sexual energy surging into her head and body after all.

  She took some paper from her mother and unrolled it onto the table as her mother lined up the paint pots next to it.

  “I think I’m in the mood to make fairies,” Wendy said as she sat down, so excited that she was waving her hands around. “I might even add some glitter—which I have here if you want some. What are you in the mood to make?”

  Rory couldn’t say what she was in the mood to make, as more visions of Jake burned her brain. “I think I’ll just go with something abstract.”

  “I always liked your abstracts. Very creative.”

  They chatted and painted, and Rory had to admit there was something therapeutic about swirling paint with her fingers. It made her think about how enjoyable it would be to swirl some on Jake’s body and then...

  Stop it, she scolded herself for the tenth time. It was one night and one night only, remember?

  She tried to switch her attention to her mother’s painting, and it struck her that she was recovering remarkably well—able to get around quite easily on her own, now. She’d even mostly dressed herself this morning, other than Rory putting on her socks and shoes, since it still hurt a little for her to bend over. It was clear her mom would be fine without her, so long as she had Linda and her other friends to check on her each day.

  “You seem to be feeling almost yourself now, Twinkie. Maybe all those herbs really do have healing qualities,” she said, and then took a breath to talk about heading back to California. For some inexplicable reason she wasn’t sure she was ready to go, even if Twinkie was well enough to be on her own. “How do you feel about me getting my job interview rescheduled for pretty soon?”

  “Do you have to go?” Her mother’s eyes were suddenly sad as she looked up from her art.

  “My job is there. Or will be.” She leaned across the table. “Please come with me. Just for the winter. Please?”

  “Aurora, I just don’t know. But I’m thinking about it. We’ll see if one of my fairies here gives me a sign about what to do.”

  “You’re going to let a fairy that you made yourself help you decide?” Rory had to smile. And then she wondered what kind of paint she could swirl on her mom’s picture that would tell her to come live with Rory for a few months, because the thought of leaving her made her chest ache.

  “I hear you, poking fun. But it’s like tea leaves or coffee grounds. Patterns come together to tell a story. To see the future.”

  “I wish—”

  “Anybody home?”

  Her heart dipped, then jumped. How could Jake be coming in the middle of the afternoon like this? She’d expected he’d be hours, probably showing up just before dinnertime.

  He appeared in the kitchen doorway with Mika in his arms. Her heart pitched again as she stared at the man who’d had his hands and mouth all over her body just days ago. Filtered sunlight from the kitchen window lit his features, and he looked beyond handsome in a flannel shirt and jeans that had her attention going straight to his body. Those memories got stirred up all over again, and she yanked her gaze back to the bundle in his arms.

  Looking at Mika’s adorable little face had her relaxing, and the quickened beat of her heart settled into a warm calm. “What are you doing here?”

  “Plumbing, I believe.”

  “Why aren’t you at the clinic?”

  “Dad’s back, and I have the day off.”

  “Well, it’s nice of you to help us on your day off. We’re finger painting, believe it or not,” she said, wiggling her painty fingers. “How about joining us?”

  Jake grinned as he put Mika down on the floor. The child toddled a few steps before going back to his knees and crawling remarkably fast until he pulled himself back to a standing position at the table.

  “Looks like he might have some interest in that.”

  “I’ll get some paper for him,” Wendy said, standing to move toward the art closet in the living room. “Smaller pieces that’ll be just the right size. I bet he’ll like all the colors.”

  Still clutching the table leg, the child grinned up at Rory and the warmth in her chest grew. She looked at Jake, and the way he was watching the child with love and pride made her heart both pinch and expand.

  “He’s walking even more than he was at his birthday party, isn’t he?”

  “He can walk—he just gets impatient with the slow pace and switches to crawling because it’s faster.”

  “You sure he belongs in Eudemonia and not LA? A slow pace is practically the law here.”

  Jake’s smile faded, and she wasn’t sure why. Could it be because he wasn’t ready for her to go back? Or maybe he knew she wasn’t sure she was ready, either.

  “No, he’s an Alaskan through and through. Maybe he can paint while I look at the pipe. Is it this one here?”

  “Yes, but the pipes are stuck together tight. Did you bring some spray oil to loosen it? I couldn’t find any, believe it or not. Clearly dropping the ball in my usual preparedness.”

  He shook his head, and as he headed toward the sink paused beside her chair. His fingertips brushed her neck, making her shiver.

  “You saying you think I’m a weakling? I’m insulted.”

  “If you think that’s what I’m saying, then since I couldn’t do it, I guess you mean I’m a weakling.”

  “No. It’s just that men are physically stronger than women. It’s a fact.”

  “Something I heard endlessly when I was studying orthopedic surgery as a reason why I should choose something else.”

  Amused brown eyes met hers, and she thought of all the times he’d teased her about so many things. About how even when it had annoyed her she’d loved it at the same time, because it was the way he’
d shown her how much he cared about her.

  A sudden vision of his big, muscular body, naked and warm and beautiful, made her breath catch. No doubt about it—Jacob Hunter was one physically strong specimen of a man. Emotionally strong, too.

  Her chest got a little tight, and she knew she needed to do something to loosen it. She reached up with a paint-covered finger and marked the left side of his jaw with a swirly green X. “Want me to show you how strong I am?”

  “What? Is this X marks the spot? You gonna pop me?”

  “Brace yourself. Are you ready?” What she really wanted to do was kiss the X and then move on to his mouth, but she waved her fist at him before tapping his chin with it.

  He grasped her wrist and lowered his face close to hers. “You’ve heard about playing with fire and getting burned? You want to go up in flames?”

  Oh, yeah, she did want to go up in flames, if the burn was from Jake.

  When he lowered his mouth to hers, she parted her lips, and when she touched her tongue to his she heard him draw in a breath just before the kiss got deeper and wetter. Without thinking, she lifted her hands to his cheeks as she tipped her head, wanting more of the deliciously tempting taste of him.

  “You think he’d like colored paper better, or plain white?”

  At the sound of her mother’s voice they pulled apart, and the heat in the brown eyes inches from hers had her quivering from head to toe. And then she laughed as she looked at the paint all over the poor man’s face.

  “Why, you two are really getting into the spirit of this, aren’t you?” her mother said, beaming. “I never thought to paint myself or you. What a wonderful idea, Aurora!”

  “Rory’s always been full of good ideas,” Jake said, his voice rough. He straightened and turned toward the sink. “But I’d better get these pipes fixed if I don’t want to be driving around with paint all over my face.”

  “Before you do, can you put Mika on my lap?” asked Rory. “I don’t want to get paint on his clothes.”